Last Ditch Effort
by HarpD
Summary: An old friend of Miss Parker wants her full attention, and goes to extremes to get it. Now, the Pretender needs to make a move, his last ditch effort for the Miss Parker he once knew. Chapter 3 is up!
1. Lasting Impressions

Last Ditch Effort

Disclaimer: He he. Almost forgot to do this. Ahem, All characters and events in this story are purely fictitious, therefore, all and any similarity to a real person, living or dead is entirely coincidental and unintended by she wrote this. Absolutely no connection to anyone involved in the TV show, especially since they had the bright idea to end the show as they did. Heh.

Author's Note: Here's another one that popped into my head as I was puttering away in my room, trying to find the order in my personal chaos..hope you like it! And need I say it? Reviews!

Chapter 1: The Awakening (also title from a song from the soundtrack of Underworld: Evolution heh)

_  
As the screen began to focus, the bottom left corner declaring 'For Centre Use Only – 5/23/74', one could make out the shapes of a steel table standing at the centre of the room, with a chair on either side, an obvious lack of all and any creature comforts. Back to the basics, they declared, the walls whitewashed as their bareness screamed the lack of identity, of real human habitation._

_A humming in the background slowly began to emit from the speakers of the DSA player, its melody lonely, a form of escapism from the shadows that closed in on him from all directions. As the camera shifted, a young Jarod sat near the opening of an air vent, his tune a signal for Angelo to make his presence known. He stilled as he heard the tortured gravelly tone of his friend reciting "Daughter sad, Daughter afraid, Daughter sad, Daughter afraid."_

"_Angelo?" Jarod called anxiously, his voice tight with worry. _

_The camera then shifted swiftly to follow the entry of a timid Miss Parker, her movements wary and apprehensive. As she spied Jarod in the corner, so did he; his head had spun swiftly at her entry. Pushing himself off the ground with one hand, he rose and waited for her to reach him, his eyes watching her as if trying to understand her solely from the way she moved._

"_Miss Parker?" he voiced timidly. Their eyes catching, Miss Parker let out a soft sob, before moving forward into his arms, her face resting on his shoulder as her hands softly rested on his chest._

_Jarod, stunned at the physical contact, felt his hands twitching impotently as his sides, useless in their incongruity, not understanding what he should do, how he should move even as his heart yearned to comfort this little girl that had come to mean so much for him in his time at The Centre._

_Rising slowly from his sides, his hands fisted and released in smooth succession, unsure of their purpose nor their destination.._

In the present, Jarod sat gazing in quiet concentration at the scene, one fist resting against his mouth as his other hand reached to flick the switch off, ending the DSA abruptly. The lines of his face were carved sharply, the light catching on his cheekbones as he stayed in that position, his eyes then moving to settle on the letter that lay in front of him. Slim and white, the envelope had a small multi-colored bouquet stenciled in at a corner and, even after all these years, a sweet scent wafted from the paper.

In its center, written in a cursive and elegant hand, reminiscent of what could be found on the small notes addressed to Miss Parker from her mother, was the single and innocuous word.

"_Jarod."_

_

* * *

_

She came to slowly, bits and pieces of her past flashing before her eyes in black and white as she felt the dryness in her throat and the pain around her wrists begin to register. Her head had been resting to its right side, her dark hair falling over her face and a crick in her neck making it clear she had been in that position for a while now.

Letting out a soft groan, she lifted her head warily, prepared to feel her backbone pulsing in pain at the movement. Then the empty space, the dark cavernous emptiness began to register and she began to take stock of her physical state. She sat on a wooden chair, or was tied to it rather, her ankles roped together as she assumed her hands were behind her back, her wrists tugging helplessly. Around her upper body was heavy duty wire, cutting into her abdomen and ribs, pulling painfully at the skin.

The dryness in her throat she could now associate with the cotton cloth that served as her gag, the material coarse and rough against the surface of her tongue. Her eyes flitting over her surroundings, she saw mud and brick , a low ceiling above her and a high intensity mine-lamp at her top right, right beside a small innocuous video camera, a blinking red light giving it a menacing life, a signal of its domination in the space. She stared dumbly at it, beginning to understand just what the hell she had gotten herself into, and more importantly, did not know how to get herself out of.

"Ah, I see we are awake. Hello, Miss Parker." The voice came out of the intercom to the other side of the camera, the voice smooth and polished, with an obvious accent that Miss Parker recognized instantly.

Her eyes wide, she began to saw at the ropes around her wrists, muffled noises emiting from behind the gag, her ankles rubbing together valiantly. Her eyes fixed on the camera, anger and murder shining brightly in their irises, she understood that nothing good had ever come from the owner of that voice, even from the very first time she had known of his existence. Nothing good.

Only death.


	2. His One Last Chance

Last Ditch Effort Chapter 2

His One Last Chance

_A/N: Hey everybody! Hope the weekend's treating you well. Have a chocolate on me. Hehe._

_Anyway, here's the next chapt for this story, the plot becomes a little clearer (I'm not trying to hold out on you, honest, the twist and dialogue only come to me as I write it)..ENJOY!_

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapt 1

He ran, his breath sawing through his lungs, his heartbeat a loud drum in his ears, pulsing through his arms, his legs. Moving quickly, unheeding of the passing glances, the curious pauses, he dodged moving bodies, the roar of passing vehicles only spurring him on. The panorama of this average day in Washington D.C. was reduced to a zoetrope to him in his panic, his abject terror. He mentally urged his legs faster, his heart to release its vice grip on itself as it lay in the throes of fear, its taste sour and stark in his mouth.

He could hear it from more than ten meters away, the shrill sharp ringing causing his muscles to go into instinctive cramps at the import, at what lay at the feet of that call. His leather jacket stretching to accommodate his last desperate sprint, he angled his body past the last throng of people that separated him from his destination, his left shoulder guiding is way, his eyes intent upon the nondescript structure that literally called to him.

Reaching the phone booth, his fist clutched the handle of the folding doors, pushing it violently aside even as he moved to step inside. His other hand grabbed for the average black receiver, his breath hitching. His heart felt like it paused in anticipation.

"I'm here!" he yelled, his voice hoarse, and he could feel the chills of fear that shuddered through him as he feared that he had missed the call, that his own ineptitude had cost her her life.

"Ah, Jarod. How disappointing. I had actually looked forward to Plan B with my dear morsel. She is a delectable one isn't she?" his voice was a lethal purr, but the accent was pronounced enough to confirm Jarod's suspicions.

"Alex, you bastard. Is this another of your half-baked plans to reel me in?" His voice had reduced itself to a growl, the anger that suffused it a live energy, Jarod could practically feel himself bristle.

"Half-baked? I don't think our dear Miss Parker would agree with you, Jarod," a small chuckle accompanied his subtle threat, "in fact, from where I am sitting, she understands just how well my plan is moving forward."

Jarod could feel the sweat that had built on the palm that clutched the receiver, his fingers and knuckles white from their tight and rigid hold.

"Just tell me where and when, Alex." Jarod tried to control his tone, wanting to emit the least amount of weakness as he could to benefit this sociopath, even as his throat felt the growing clog of tears at the images that flitted through his mind, stark in their focus on her face, her fear.

_Who are you kidding, Jarod? She's probably preparing to spit in his face as we speak.._

Even through the static, Jarod could hear clearly the amused clucking noises Alex made.

"Now, now, Jarod. Let's not be hasty with the heroics." A short pause followed. In the background Jarod could distinguish the soft hum of machines, the squeak of the wheels of a chair against cold linoleum.

A soft click.

"The heroics will be needed soon enough."

On the other end of the line, Alex placed the phone against a small flat speaker in front of him.

"Aaahrgh!"

"Parker!" Jarod screamed her name in that small phone booth, one of many along the junctions of D.C., that held quick conversations between loved ones calling to check up, or between strangers as they went about their daily routines of human interaction. But in this particular booth, on this particular day, those in a general radius around the booth paused, their heads tilting as they turned to gaze at the distraught man whose body was bent over in a cowed position, one hand splayed against the glass, his eyes gazing unseeing into the distance even as it roiled with a whole maelstrom of emotions from fear and terror, to anger and murder.

"No! You bastard, stop!", his voice cracked, Jarod let his head fall, hiding the tears that had begun to build even as he longed, desperately longed for the ability to reach through the phone to choke to death this sick animal, this sick henchman of his past.

"Don't forget who holds the strings in this puppet game, Jarod. Never forget that _I _control you this time, that I am two steps ahead of _you_." The voice brooked no argument even as a hint of the maniacal reached its peak, like a small red smear over a pure white rose.

"You touch her Alex, and I will never, _never,_ stop hunting you." Lifting his head, his hand splayed against the glass in front of him bearing most of his weary weight, Jarod smiled grimly at his reflection.

"Worst, I will leave you to her hands."

A soft hum was the only indication that Alex heard him.

"Seaford, Nevada. Room 201 at Desert Oasis. I will call at 6 pm and give you your instructions. And Jarod, I am not the only one involved in this 'half-baked' plan. Keep that in mind when you think of playing Russian roulette with the life of your childhood buddy."

The dial-tone emitted caustically, the sharp sound a seeming repetition of the seriousness, the ruthlessness that Jarod felt rumbling to life within him, changing him from that innocent child of the New World to an aficionado of lustful vengeance.

Pushing away from the pane glass windows, Jarod stepped out into the clean afternoon air. He brushed off the glances that stayed on him even as he walked away from the booth, closing his eyes and allowing the bright sunlight to wash over him. It was his way of feeling safe, clean for a few moments, away from the roil of emotions that screamed within him, screamed her scream.

* * *

Parker stared at the blinking red light of the whirring camera, its seeming innocuousness insidious, and a primal part of her wanted to reach out and rip it from the wall with her nails, like a she-cat striking out at a predator. 

Her body still trembled, still quaked from the electric bolts that had pulsed through her. They had come abruptly, she hadn't even felt a change in the atmosphere to warn her. Striking her nerves like hot pokers, stretching the endurance of the thin muscle of her eardrums, she had instinctively let out a scream of pain, of terror that it would never end.

Her eyes hot with angry tears that she forced herself to hide from the camera, her tight muscles belied the images of retribution she comforted herself with.

**_When I get out of here, I will kill you Alex. I won't flinch._**

A/N: Phew, that gave me chills just writing it..let me know what you think..yup, that small button that says Go! yup, move the mouse towards it.._  
_


	3. Riding the Heat Wave

Last Ditch Effort Chapter 3

_A/N: Thank you everyone for your amazing reviews for the updates on my other two stories. I hope I never disappoint you guys, but rest assured I have dreamt enough about Jarod and Packer together to never lack for inspiration.._

_I just saw the episode 'Wild Child' and I think I just fell in love with Jarod all over again; I have a thing for guys who are tender with kids. But not to worry, I shall graciously step aside for Parker lol.._

_Annyway, here's the next chapter for this story..as usual, let me knos what you think at the end.._

Disclaimer: Refer to Chapt 1

Riding the Heat Wave

The air was dank, the smell musty and sickly sweet it seemed, but that wasn't what raised the little hairs on the nape of her neck. It was the scuffling she heard behind her, the sound dulled as it came from behind a wall, but loud enough to tell her there was someone coming, finally someone coming into this hell of hers.

The dead-bolt slammed back, Parker's shoulder muscles jerking violently at the sound, her wrists instinctively twisting against the rope in a desperate attempt to prevent the inevitable. She craned her neck to look behind her, her hair brushing against the shoulder pads of her dark suit, the red blouse she wore tucked into her waistband straining with her efforts to twist around to get a better look at the mystery door, if only to give her a clue to where she was beimg kept.

A thick slab of metal was pushed forward, outlining a male form in the spotlight fixed on the wall directly outside the door, but it was enough for Parker to notice that the walls were granite, rough and naturally crevassed. If nothing else, she definitely was not at the Centre, but somehow Parker feared that this only meant she had been thrown into the pit of another kind of hell.

Alex stepped forward, his face still partially hid in the deep shadows, but she easily knew it was him from his custom-made black leather shoes and vest, dark velvet green tie starched and tucked neatly into the buttons of his shirt. _Killing with style_, she remembered a Centre employee whispering caustically once.

"How about some refreshments, Miss Parker," his polished accent grating on her last nerve.

She watched him as he neared her, her eyes narrowed and fixed on his confident movements.

"What sick game are you playing now, Alex? I knew you were a dumb little Centre stooge but this just plummets the intelligence quotient," staring at him, smiling grimly, her teeth showing, her eyes hard and menacing Parker-style, she continued, "You are nothing at the Centre, Alex, and when I get out of this, not _if_ but _when_ you fool, you will regret ever thinking up this idiotic misadventure."

She saw his eyes change, darken with violence but even with this did not see the blow coming. His fist lanced across her check, sending her head spinning in the other direction, shooting pains in her cheek and jaw bringing a wet gleam instinctively to her eyes.

Swallowing hard, she gingerly moved her jaw around as she turned to look back at the bastard, the pitted anger and murder in her eyes unmistakable. Her hair in disarray, they framed her hard face as she stared at him, the darkness of her hair and eyes coming together in a combination of black vengeance.

Alex placed the tray on the floor, two feet from her, wanting her to see the rodents that came for it, that chewed on the little nourishment she had been brought primarily to keep her energy up. Chuckling softly as he walked back towards the exit, and reaching up to adjust his tie that had shifted with his exertion, he turned to close the large door behind him, the dead bolt sounding loud and final in the hollow silence.

* * *

Jarod had driven his silver mustang to within an inch of its limit, pushing the engine hard and mercilessly, leaving a dark plume of desert dust on the stretch of highway he left behind. His face tight, a tic in his jaw appearing every couple of seconds, his cheekbones cutting a sharp curve along his cheeks and below his narrowed eyes, he thought of nothing but getting there, of getting closer to her.

_It was 5pm. Only an hour till Alex called in at the Desert Oasis motel._

About a mile outside the little desert town of Seaford, Jarod eased up on the accelerator, peering through his dusty windshield at the craggy mountains that lined the sides of the expressway, their dark red-brown colour deep in its essence as it spoke of secrets centuries past. Jarod knew how Alex worked, knew that he would bank on isolation and extensive equipment, liking his operations wide-scale enough to increase his own idea of his importance. And that gave Jarod the edge, he would not be difficult to locate. But first, Jaord needed to deal with some loose ends, in particular the dark sedan that trailed behind him and had been for miles now.

His face twisting with the anger and hatred that churned within him, he tightened his hands on the wheel, wishing it was Alex's neck. He tried to block these thoughts, focused on getting to the motel and putting into place a plan that would get Miss Parker out of there safely without jeopardising his own freedom, hard earned and sacrificed for.

_Or would he give that freedom up to save her life .._

Catherine's Parker's letter burnt a hole in his inner jacket pocket, the words the reason he asked this question, feared the answer.

* * *

The white cotton curtains of the small motel room flapped against the open window, looking out onto the empty road that ran through the quiet and lonely town of Seaford. Twilight had already begun to creep its way across the horizon, the muted light dulled by the curtains as it fell into the room and onto its single occupant.

Jarod sat with his back against the headboard of the king's size bed, the room phone he had dragged he left sitting on the space beside him, its stillness betraying its true purpose. His boots rested on the stiff coverlet, knees bent and his arms lay limply by his sides, the bed barely touched, he hadn't even bothered to take his jacket off.

He was looking up, his head leaning back against the wall, his eyes still and unmoving as he stared at a single bland spot on the ceiling, his lips moving slowly, counting the seconds, the minutes.

Even then, the sharp trill of the phone surprised him, sent a sliver of shock down his spine even as he reached one hand out to it, his head falling to look ahead, his eyes cold and hard.

"What?"

"_What?"_

"_Aww, I intentionally wake you in your deepest sleep phase and all I get is a lifeless 'what' ?"_

Jarod's world went spinning as that flashback hit him, destroying any sense of detachment he had forced himself to have as he waited for the call, remembering the first call he had made to Parker those years ago, reminding him of all the others, reminding him of the conection he knew he coud never allow broken between them, that was his way of maintaining it.

"Ah, Jarod. I see you were so good enough to make it. I hope the accommodations are to your satisfaction. The honeymoon suite is the best room they have after all. And so fitting, wouldn't you agree?"

"Alex, you have what you want. I got here, and since there aren't sweepers beating down the door, I am going to jump the gun here and say that this little kidnapping of yours isn't Centre sanctioned," Jarod clucked, knowing that he was pushing the right buttons, "what would the Triumvirate think, or rather what will they do to you when they found out what you tried to do?" He smiled grimly into the phone, his elbow resting on his knee to support the phone, his other hand fisted, the sheet caught in its hold.

There was a pause on the line, broken only by soft breathing.

"It seems you _would_ like to play with Miss Parker's life, Jarod."

Jarod sighed, returning his head to its resting position against the cool wall behind him.

"What now, Alex?"

"An associate of mine is waiting for you outside, he isn't very easy to miss I assure you. Follow his instructions and you shall be reunited with your childhood bosom pal."

"What's the catch, Alex?"

"Oh come now, Jarod, would that be any fun? The rules of the game shall be revealed in due time. Have a safe trip now." The click resounded in Jarod's ear but he stayed in that position for a while, his hand tight around the phone.

Leveraging himself off the bed, his face remained still with no change of expression, but when he reached the door he suddenly lashed out in fury, his fist hitting the wood center, causing an indentation surrounded with splinters to appear. Resting his forehead against the door, he breathed deeply, his chest heaving.

Seconds passed with only his harsh breathing filling the silence. Jarod then pushed himself away from the door and pulled it open, the confidence and intensity of past sims that demanded deadly detachment coming back to him quickly as he blocked her image, her face, from his head.

* * *

Parker watched the camera, its blinking red light. Working up the salive, abruptly, she began to cough loudly, violently, dry racking coughs that caused her to bend forward as much as she could with the ropes binding her tight. To those on the other side of that camera, she recovered soon enough, all returning to how it was. No cause for worry at all. No need to alert Mr Cox.

What they didn't notice was the foot that had shot out, that had kicked a fork from the tray back towards her, skipping it until it landed under her chair, hidden from those that watched. Parker let her head fall, her hair curtaining her face, hoping they assumed she had fallen into and exhausted slumber, even as she focused on leveraging the utensil to cut into the ropes around her ankles, a torturous and excruciatingly slow process that would not get her out of this hellhole, but would give her a fighting chance when Alex came back.

She knew she had only herself to depend on, Broots and Sydney would not know how to locate her. And Jarod..

Jarod she had lost all those years ago, just as she had planned it, unable to keep looking into his brown eyes and the memories that he kept there, memories only shared by the two of them, and be Mr Parker's angel at the same time.

So Miss Parker would just have to save herself.


End file.
